Arc 718
Better my morals than my children... Wisp had reasoned, each time her morals died in the line of fire. What mattered was that her moral violations kept her family well fed, housed and clothed. A smile kissed her lips as she gazed at her two children playing on the front branch. They’d come so far – the death of her parents and loss of their livelihood. She ran her fingers through the vines that dripped over her shoulders to finger the plant that made it possible.
______________
It had been a frightfully hot Saun when her parents had died. Wisp couldn’t remember the last thing she’d said to them – it had been a typical everyday morning. There had been tea, nuts dipped in honey, and a dazzle of raspberries. Her son was sick with his first fungal infection and Wisp was beside herself with anxiety. Her mother had stayed up all night the day prior rubbing her back and reassuring her that every mother felt this way the first time their first born was sick.
It was because he was sick that Wisp wasn’t in the fields tending the bees with her parents when the
Orchid Mantis had attacked. A
Queen Bee had settled into the flower field with her army of orchids, unbeknownst to the family. When her parents hadn’t returned for evening tea, her husband and her had gone out to look for them. They’d found pieces of bark, shreds of vines, and the petals of a devastated enemy. It was the way of the wild world and a part of Moseke’s natural hierarchy. While her husband preached at her the law of Nature, as if that would help her come to terms with their deaths, Wisp ignored his soothing monologue of fate and natural and instead plotted her revenge.
The Orchid Mantis and Queen were living on the honey and bees of the colony. Keeping the Tunawan family from caring for the bee colonies. Without the might to fight them, Wisp felt weak and at a loss. Her husband felt it and took it as a personal failure that he wasn’t strong enough to help. The friction between them was as grinding tectonic plates braced for volcanic upheaval. It was the eventual cure of their child’s fungal infection that inspired Wisp with the idea.
Something to do the fighting for me.
Wisp researched and hunted until she found a fungal infection that would impact the insects for an entire Cylus, and another season trying to figure out how to infect the insects without infecting the bees.
“We failed…” Wisp had muttered kicking at the empty hive. Her husband had put a reassuring, but trembling, arm around her. “You know this happens sometimes. It just does. We couldn’t have changed it.” The most complete and devastating colony loss the family had ever experienced lay before them. The unexplainable mass abandonment of hives.
“How are we going to take care of our family?” She accused.
“We’ll be okay.”
She gazed at the wreckage silently, knowing it wasn’t unexplainable. She had done it. Her fungus had destroyed the invaders but had passed to the bees and destroyed the thing she’d been trying to save.
Her husband used the carpentry skills he had developed building hives to build furniture and repair work around Desnind. Wisp took care of their son, and then soon after their daughter. Despite their best efforts, by the end of the arc they had lost their family home, sold their belongings, and were struggling to feed and clothe their children. What followed was a series of secrets and lies as the Tunawan tried to the hide the addictive opioid growing from her fronds. Each brilliantly vibrant berry worth a handful of nel to a desperate Sev’ryn.
As far as her husband was aware, she was an exterminator that removed mould, fungi, and insects from people’s crops. A skill she had lied about acquiring as an apiarist, as opposed to the plotted revenge on her parent’s murderers. When her husband had finally found out, having grown suspicious as to the source of their improving finances, he had flown into a rage. Her usual quietly strong partner had been furious that she had put their children in danger.
What if they had picked a berry while you were sleeping? What if some addict had hurt them?
Attacked, Wisp lashed back out.
I was taking care of my family. They have clothing, food, a roof over their head because of me. I was willing to do what you were not. You don’t have the right to scream at me. If it had been up to you we’d be on the forest floor living under a mushroom.
Despite her protestations, he had taken her children from her.
And so, again, she plotted.
The largest deal she’d yet to make presented itself, with enough nel on the line to kidnap her children and flee Desnind.
Presented itself. Can you imagine. Something easy in life. She marveled suspiciously. She had met the Sev’ryn in the dark shroud of a tree. A place where she could sit among the low branches, eye-level with the humans. The woman she had expected turned out to be no more than a girl. A girl clothed in nothing more than a white dress with black soot marring it. Her hair was cut short, just above her shoulders, and yellow eyes were framed by narrow eyebrows. Just as Wisp had decided to reject the deal, the thought of providing a lethal amount of berries to a child beyond the depths she was willing to descend, the girl looked directly at her.
Her eyes were alight with a dim glow of magic that made the Tunawa start. It wasn’t often you saw a child initiate. However, the Tunawa wasn’t afraid. Since magic couldn’t affect her people – she’d never experienced nor heard cautionary tales. Earthly perils were far more threatening.
“Come here my darling,” She offered a palm sweetly.
Wisp took a decisive step backward. “I’m sorry child, I do not sell to children. What could a girl want with such a purchase.” It wasn’t a question.
A breeze, in a windless forest, rushed past the child’s face lifting her hair into a buzzing cone about her skeletal face. Her face no longer seemed pale but bone-white. A rotten stench wafted ambiently out from
her flared nostrils. “Are you deaf, dumb, and blind? Do I sound like a child to you? Do I look as a child.” Wisp gulped, but didn’t step forward.
“Fine.” Secretly delighting in the woman’s defiance. It was not often someone didn’t kneel before a minor display of power. The Tunawa looked every bit the living doll that Moseke had intended, and Lisirra intended to play with her like one.
“You’re a wonderful mother you know.”
How does she know that? Wisp stayed silent and waited for the girl to continue. But the girl continued not waiting for the Tunawa to acknowledge her compliment.
“You’ll go to any lengths to protect your children. Yet, your sacrifice has gone unrecognized…What is it? Your husband doesn’t believe in you? Wants to punish you?”
Wisp’s face was cast in deeper shadow as she scowled, “I think it’s time for me to leave.” How this girl knew so much about her was a curiosity but not a mystery worth lingering longer to resolve.
“Are you so sure? I know you need your children. I can do that for you.” She offered as the Tunawa turned to mount the large black wasp that was her remaining inheritance. When she turned to face Hoyt she noticed the wasp had kneeled, refusing to move or acknowledge the Tunawan’s presence. His compound eyes focused on the Immortal.
“Why would you help me? What do you want?” If Hoyt wouldn’t move, she was trapped in this girls company.
“I don’t want to help you. But, I do want you to do something for me.” Whisp trusted this statement far more than the sweetly said darling or compliments. Lisirra had seen what she had done to try and save her bees and seek revenge on her parents murderers. She saw in Whisp what she wanted in all her followers: curiosity, an understanding or interest in power that was not physical, and a weakness or fallibility she could use to bend them to her will.
“You see Whisper…”
“My name is Wisp-Wish.” The Tunawa corrected. Lisirra smirked, the edge of one corner of her mouth lifting in an amused tilt.
“You are no Wisp woman and I am your Wish on a star.”
A Tunawa may be the perfect begetter of this disease…she will be my whisper in the woods. Lisirra thought. A creature of Moseke’s own flesh would be the downfall of Desnind. But, Wisp was ignorant to the knot of betrayal that bound resentment to Lisirra’s back.
“A whisper is no greater than a whisp.” She replied argumentatively.
“Of course it is. A whisper is a secret. What’s more powerful than a secret?”
“I can make enough nel to afford to escape Desnind with my children on my own. I don’t need you.” Whisp lied. Without this promised purchase she was a long way from being able to afford the Flutterbus and all the costs of setting up a home elsewhere.
“Of course you do.” Lisirra allowed her her pride. “But, is that all you want? Don’t you want to make him pay for his betrayal?”
“No. I just want my children.”
Lisirra stared at her. “Fine. Buzz off then.” Snatching the bag containing the dried berries Whisp had brought, she waved a hand, breaking Hoyt’s trance and disappearing into a cloud of orange-yellow butterflies.
Once the butterflies had darted off they left a small pile of nel in their wake.
Enough to escape.
Whisp sat top the edge of a couch arm listening to
the drunks greet the rising sun with snores that would put a rooster to shame. While friendship would exaggerate their association, the
proprietor and Tunawa had on occasion exchanged goods and services. After all, what added to a night of frolicking in the Karshe Inn better than the Tunawan’s goods.
Whisp had been waiting most of the morning for the Yludih to rise, each night a late one by trade. Finally, the purple vision entered the common room and waved for the Tunawa to attend her down the walkways to more private accomodations. Drenched in curtains and pillows, the two settled into comfort in Violetta's rooms. Nowhere else was the Tunawa surrounded by such richness and she couldn’t help the widen of her eyes as she greedily absorbed the colours and comfort, perched atop a pillows knobbed center, surrounded by it’s tassels.
“Why have you called on me so early dahling?” Violetta yawned, draping herself across a loveseat and perching her sharp chin on the edge of her hand curiously. “It is too early for trade and nels. I couldn’t count without my morning coffee even had you brought me the most exquisite of goods.” Whisp knew she was full of shyte – the glitter of a nel would rouse the woman at any hour and exquisite was never what Whisp offered. She offered only the additive pain-relieving drug that benefitted the most elderly and arthritic of Violetta’s clients. Others often wanted far more hallucinogenic or mind-altering substances.
“I thought perhaps we may find company in each other while enjoying our morning coffee.” Whisp suggested. It was the first time either had suggested a more personal interaction, and Whisp could see the obvious confusion on the proprietor's face.
“Sure…” She nodded, slurring the word out. She hesitated before rising to prepare coffee for herself and a thimble for her uninvited guest.
“What sort of company do you wish to find in me?” She asked as she set the thimble before Whisp and took a set with her own.
“You know more of the shadows than anyone else I know in Desnind.” Whisp admitted. It wasn’t quite true, but she knew the Yludih was a worshipper of
Syroa and involved in the shadows of Desnind. If this girl wasn’t involved in the shadows, Whisp would eat her own toe.
“I….” Whisp had gone back and forth about how honest she would be and had left it to how the moment felt to decide. “I was making a deal. But the Sev’ryn that came to me was not one of my usual contacts.” Violetta waited patiently for her to continue. Whisp sipped her coffee, the bitterness matching the taste of the tale.
“She was a mere child, with glowing eyes…” Whisp proceeded to tell Violetta the story, leaving nothing out. While she watched the expressionless face of the Yludih for some sign of recognition. She was pleased when halfway through the story the woman’s face broke into a grin and the Tunawa became more animated, the story growing easy on her lips.
“Well Ms.Whisp. It sounds like you’ve meet the esteemed Lisirra. Lady Plague, Insect Queen, Hive Mother.”
“An Immortal?” Whisp shivered her leaves rustling, an echo of fall.
The guts she must have thought I had to refuse her… a thin thread of fear ran though the Tunawa’s core.
“What do you know of her?”
“Well not much, truth me told. I know Syroa counts her among her few confidants. She is said to be a curious immortal, experimenting with disease and caring for the insects of Idalos. She is Moseke's sister after all...so she has a connection with the natural world. Unlike Moseke however, she was never embraced by her family. I imagine that is what Syroa appreciates about Lisirra, if I may make a leap. Who wouldn't bond with someone just as unfairly rebuffed.”
The two sipped bitter beans in silence for a few minutes. Whisp wondering how to lose the immortals interest – she wanted a humble simple life devoid of immortal tampering or power. Violetta on the other hand was thinking of Syoa and how she might aid her patron in this moment.
“Why not take her up on the offer to help? It certainly would be easier, no?”
“Do you really think dealing with an immortal would be easier?” She rebutted, eyebrow moss raised.
“Maybe she genuinely wants to help. She had a mother, maybe a mother she wished was more like you?” The seductress knew that seduction went beyond physical persuasion, intellectual or emotional seduction were just as valuable.
Whisp surprised Violetta with a belted laugh, “Who are we to suppose immortals have the same relationship as us?”
“You know the story of your very own people. What is that but a display of the same mortal pain?”
Whisp nodded slowly. “I suppose.”
“I don’t pretend to know Lisirra’s family matters. What it means to be an immortal child is beyond my understanding. But, I do know she is a child right? So, maybe she needs your help as a mother? Or, maybe she simply feels for your children and wants them home with you.”
“Yes. Perhaps.”
The plan had failed. Whisp stared out her window. She hadn’t gotten more than two tree limbs before she’d been chased down and the children returned to their father.
It’s over…you’ll never so much as see them again. He had warned as she was escorted to a cell for sentencing the following day.
Kidnapping…assault…. Whisp thought helplessly.
“Okay!” She called into the cold dome of the prison hole. “You win Lisirra! Help me!”
Her appearance was preceded with a quiet buzz that escalated into a storm before the child appeared, perched on the bed’s edge.
“Empty this onto your husband.” The immortal explained, with no preliminary introduction. She handed over a bag no heavier than a coin purse.
“What is it?” Whisp asked, moving to open the drawstring.
“Don’t open it before then, and don’t get any on yourself.” Lisirra warned before vanishing just as quickly into a buzzing ball of butterfly wings. “But be quiet as a whisper.” Her voice shivered through the buzzing bodies her form had disintegrated into.
It was a while before Whisp got the chance to get close to her husband. It was after she had been given community service, working at a daycare “where she could better appreciate the parental bond she’d been trying to break” the judge had said.
Ironic. she’d thought.
She had left a letter in his mailbox, telling him to meet her at the daycare for lunch. She never knew why he did. Had he been hoping for an apology? Did he still love her? It didn’t matter. They had sat down to hazelnut soup and she had questioned him about the children.
“I’ll never let you see them…” He had warned anxiously.
“I know…” She admitted, head hung as if in sadness, but truly to hide her angry grimace, “but I’m their mother. I need to know how they’re doing.” He told her tales of first steps, first words, and how much their son loved his sister. It was so much like old times, Whisp almost forgot she wouldn’t be returning home with him after lunch.
When the conversation had faded and the bowls were emptied he rose to leave. “It was nice to see you Wish…”
“Yes. It was.” Whisp offered a hug awkwardly. Slowly he stepped into her arms and she eased open the bag to sprinkle the dusty it contained on the back of his neck. It was done.
He died a few days later. A fungal infection the doctors thought was some relative of ringworm, a fungal infection that affected mammals. It was normally a nuisance infection, but this strain affected trees. It started as a slowly expanding circle. The outer edge seeped bubbling black sap and ridged wood, the center a smooth barkless circle – like a tree stripped of its defenses. With no other family the children were returned to her.
The day he died Lisirra returned to Whisp. “You have everything I promised you. Why are you angry?”
“I didn’t expect…I didn’t want…” she choked out.
“You didn’t expect…you didn’t want…” Lisirra mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You wanted your children back and now you have them. Now you will be a mother to many more. A mother to my insects, a mother to my diseases.”
Whisp shook her head slowly, “What do you mean?”
Lisirra reached a hand out to Whisp’s abdomen, touching the dark bark with a soft untnender touch. It glowed lightlessly, like all light disappeared where the two pieces of flesh connected and Whisp felt a heavy weight descend on her shoulders as she realized what was happening.
“You carry my egg. You’re an excellent mother remember?” Whisp felt her abdomen heavy with the feeling of pregnancy. Inside her she felt the smallest of voices, quite different than the feeling of life she’d felt with her two previous pregnancies.
What is this? What have I agreed to?
Two pairs of glowing yellow eyes stared at each other in Desnind's darkness. The Destroyer of Desnind had struck again, through the hand of Moseke's own creation. Whisp watched the Immortal wing off into the night.
But she isn’t truly gone… She ran her hand over her abdomen.
The fungal infection spread in Desnind. It spread among the trees and Tunawa, becoming an endemic and fatal fungal infection affecting plants where their bark was damaged leaving a vulnerable area for the mycelium to penetrate. Whisp was afflicted by as dangerous an infection, guilt. It burrowed beneath her bark, sponged off her cambium, weasled through her sapwood and rotted her heartwood until it found the pith. This it ate raw, it’s maw dripping with the water that enlivened her limbs. She felt hollow.
Meanwhile, the egg within her grew. Powers she loathed made themselves apparent. She looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the face that stared back. Her yellow eyes glowed with the same lightless darkness that had existed between the two’s flesh those many moons ago.
I am a blighted tree…spreading my disease to the sapling and oaks who haplessly grow alongside me…
And so she did the only thing she could think to do. She took the money Lisirra had given her during that last drug deal and used it to circumvent the Immortals wishes. She used it to flee to the place furthest from her beloved home – Scalvoris.
As she disembarked from the Flutterbus with her two children, a small trunk of belongings and two sleeping bee colonies she looked to the town she knew nothing about.
I will fight this infection here, where my errors will cost people I do not care for. I’ll return when I’ve found a cure. 
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